From the Ritz to the Rubble and Back Again
by Drass'ir Wyrda
Summary: Blake has left the White Fang, never to return again... right? Hints of Bumblebee will be mixed with the main story. AU


_**Author's Note: Shady's back, back again. Hey guys, been a while, hasn't it? I've been toying with this story for a while now, and here it is: the first chapter! Unlike my usual works up to this point, this will be a multi-chapter story. I know- crazy, right? As usual, tell me what you guys think of this, and whether you'd like to see more!**_

* * *

_Wind howls through the streets as a stray streetlight flickers lazily. A thin layer of fog has laid itself over the beaten cobble alleyways, causing what little light there is to curve and distort the shadows into various shapes. Under the light of the full moon, a shadowy figure moves lithely across the landscape, picking between each piece of hard cover, concealed from any passer-bys that might spot the silhouette. The veiled anomaly moves swiftly but silently towards a large house. It was clearly wealthier than all its surrounding homes; The windows were clean, solid glass, but had curtain pulled across them. Upon the sturdy oaken door rested an intricately molded iron door-knocker in the shape of a lion's head. A stray rock clattered as the thief made their way up the stairs, leaning in and observing the lock it had been affixed with. _

_ After a quick assessment, the figure deftly selected a thin metal lockpick and inserted it into the hole. The door opened with a barely audible _click_, and was slowly pushed open further, the unoiled hinges moving with a groan. Padded feet made their way up the red carpeted stairway as the shadow moved towards their objective. There, lying pristinely in an ornately decorated glass case, protected only by a cheaply made padlock, was exactly what they were looking for. Thin, feminine hands slid across the surface of the box's walls, picking up a thin layer of dust on the way- it had not been opened in a long time. Once more the lockpicks came out, and once more a security feature was rendered useless. The hands carefully lifted the glass top of the case and rested it aside. Just a few more seconds and-_

"Hey. Hey, little girl. C'mon girly, I ain't got all day. I've got a job to do you know. Get up already!" I felt a sharp pain in my side and a heavy object collided with my side painfully. My eyes shot open. "There ya go, get along now pretty lady." I wearily looked up to see the towering figure of a local cop, frustratedly tapping his foot on the cold subway floor.

"Shit, it really was a dream… again." The cop standing above me huffed irritably.

"Look, I don't care nothin' 'bout none of your dreams or anything. I just want you outta' this subway. Ya can't just sleep here you know." He walked off after that, his combat boots clicking the white tiles with every step. I sighed, and dragged my weary body into a sitting position, my back leaning against the cool concrete.

The subway station was small, rundown and severely in need of renovation. Bits of paints flaked from the walls and ceiling, and the lights barely worked. Even when they did work, they didn't manage to illuminate much. Of course, that's what happens to a station that was shut down by the city years before. I picked off a cobweb from my shoulder as I rose to a standing position, staggering and attempting to regain my balance so soon after waking.

"I could _really_ use a coffee."

Such had been my living quarters for the past few weeks. Hardly anybody came down here anymore, what reason would they have to do so? There were only the occasional police officers making their none of them bothered to come back the next day to make sure I'd left, so whenever the next cop came round, they'd tell me to get on my way and promptly leave, never to be seen again. I used my hands to flatten out my worn black and white outfit, and stepped towards the out-of-use escalators that led to the surface.

Though I preferred to stay indoors and rest while I could, there was work to be done. A girl had to eat, after all- this one in particular. I hadn't been getting much in the way of food recently. That seems to happen when you have neither a penny to your name nor a job to get any. That's not to say I was lazy, of course. Indeed, I was quite the hard worker, when given a job to do. There were multiple people that could attest to that… if any of them took the risk of bringing me up. I was quite the sore topic back with my old friends, largely as a result of me leaving our little group.

The White Fang.

That was what we called ourselves. We stood for the liberation of my people- the Faunus. Animal-Human hybrids with various different physical features, we stuck out quite a bit among normal humans. They were cruel to us, and the Faunus needed somebody to stand up for our rights, to defend the Faunus people and our way of life. That was the idea, anyhow.

The plan went slightly awry. In the beginning, the organization went smoothly. We organized peaceful protests against the suppression of Faunus rights, and were doing all we could to get our message across, and get the respect we deserved. But it wasn't enough. Slowly, the White Fang strayed from their original methods and resorted more and more to violence and thievery. The worst part was, when it came to theft jobs, I was our best. For a long time, I sat by and did what they told me, but I couldn't stand the way the leaders were handling the situation. Eventually we came to be respected, but in the end it was not out of respect. It was out of fear.

And so I left the White Fang, and set out to make my own living, and erased all afilliation with the group that had basically raised me. That turned out to not be the brightest decision I've ever made, however, and now here I am. Sleeping in an abandoned subway, scrounging for scraps. At least I wasn't stealing anything.

The sunlight burned my eyes as I stepped out and onto the busy town streets, ducking under the "Out of Order- No Trespassing" sign that had been draped across the entrance to my little home. People were shuffling by, likely going to their boring office to sit at a desk for eight hours, writing papers and stapling packets. My ears twitched underneath the black bow that rested atop my head. Though uncomfortable and severely limiting my hearing, it allowed my to walk in public without drawing too much attention. As I previously said, Faunus are not well-liked.

"Alright then, where to first." I had a variety of different places I liked to go plunder food from. Unfortunately, they had lately been a bit stingy with their wares, and as a result I hadn't eaten in days. The hunger was beginning to get to me, and I quickly headed to the most likely location for a way to fill my stomach.

* * *

"Morning, Mister thatch!" I energetically waved an arm in his direction, causing him to look up in surprise. A small smile appeared on his face as he saw me making my way towards him from across the pier.

"G' morning, Miss Belladonna! To what do I owe this pleasure? I hope you haven't gotten yourself into more trouble!" He let out a hearty laugh, his prominent gut becoming even more noticeable underneath his blue fisherman's outfit. He set down the wooden crate he was carrying and turned to face me.

"Not at all, I promise!" I responded with a laugh. "I was wondering if you had any work that needed doing, actually." He frowned at that, his thick white moustache curving downwards, seemingly saddened by my question. The waves crashed against the wooden thrusts that supported the great dock we were on as he sat there, considering my question.

"Well now, I might have a thing or two that you might be able to help with." He winked at me and turned towards his shop, opposite the shore and nestled between two large wooden storehouses. His place of business, while equally as big as the storehouses, was painted and had a nice little sign hanging off to show it's place as a reputable business.

"Young Will seems to be out somewhere, probably slacking off with those hooligan friends of his. I do hope he straightens out when he's older." He suddenly looked back at me. "But that means that I have nobody to move all these boxes with me! That means it's your lucky day, missy!" He chuckled to himself once more as I strode up beside him and smiled warmly.

"Certainly seems that way, sir." He dismissed me with a weary hand, the sun outlining the clear signs of early arthritis in his thick hands.

"Why don't you stop it with that 'Sir' stuff already? You know me well enough to know I don't need some fancy title to show I'm still as young and capable as I was twenty years ago!" He clasped my shoulder, and indeed, he was certainly capable of doing things on his own. "Please, call me Thatch." I opened my mouth to protest, but he quickly cut me off. "If you do, I promise you'll get an extra juicy tuna at the end of today!" His eyes glinted with mischief, and I gave in almost immediately.

"Alright then, Thatch." He grinned long and wide, and removed his hand from my back.

"Good girl! Now then, let's get working before the moon comes up to see us!"

* * *

"Why, I do believe that's enough for today! Wouldn't you agree, Miss Belladonna?" He tiredly leaned against a nearby crate as he wiped his wrinkled forehead with a white rag.

"I think so, Thatch!" He smiled at the sound of his own name, and began to move away, motioning for me to follow him. "Come along, then! I've got a surprise I think you'll enjoy!" I curiously followed him as we made our way to his shop by the dim light of the streetlamps. He fumbled to open the door, but succeeded in the end, pushing open the door, revealing the interior of his little operation.

Not exactly luxurious, the shop was simple. Three chairs stood pushed against the wall closest to us, with the door being to the left of them. The far wall consisted of a short wooden counter, supporting an entire row of cutting boards for various methods of cutting up a fish. The majority of the room, however, was filled with numerous long tables, atop them lying dozens of different types of fish, all organized by species and lying in watery-ice filled pans. However, we did not stay, as the old man slowly trudged his way up the rickety stairs and hung off the far left wall, and up into the second floor- the living space.

I followed him up, and my eyes widened as I say what was laid out before me. The old dining table he possessed was positively stuffed with a wide array of tuna. Tuna salad, fish, sandwiches and more filled the tabletop as I stared as if God himself was before me.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it. 'Got all sorts of stuff here, all Tuna related of course." He smiled smugly as I looked over to him.

"This is for me?"

"Well, me too. And Willy, of course." He nodded towards the back of the room, to where Will, his young assistant was standing, grinning and leaning against the wall behind him.

"But why would you…? And how did you know I liked tuna?" Don't get me wrong, I am _all over _tuna anything, but I don't recall telling the old man anything about that. He cocked his head at me, still smiling.

"And man who's been through as much as I have learns to sense certain things." He then tapped the top of his head. "And I don't believe you wear that as just a fashion statement, am I correct?" My mouth hung open as I tried to formulate an appropriate response. All that came out was a jumble of unintelligible noises. "I suppose I was." He chuckled quietly. "But don't you go worryin' your cute little pants off, I won't tell. I like cats actually." With a wink, he moved towards the table and pulled up a chair. "Though I don't quite understand why you feel so strongly about needing to hide yourself, I respect it as your decision." He sighed contentedly, and motioned for Will to retrieve a chair for himself as well.

I could do nothing but smile as I walked over to the table, filled with all the foods I loved, and sat down in a nearby chair.

"I don't know how I can thank you, sir." He looked over, and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Thatch? And there'll be no thanks necessary, young'un. You've been more a help than any of the people I've hired in the past, you're not too bad to talk to either." He winked once more. "Think of this as a christmas bonus, of sorts." I couldn't help but smile at him.

"It's September, Thatch. I don't think Christmas is anytime soon."

"P'shaw! Any time can be Christmas, if you want it to! All you need is some good food and good people to eat it with! Speaking of which, let's get started, unless you'd rather go now?" As if on cue, my stomach growled, causing Thatch to chuckle for possibly the thousandth time today.

"I'll take that as a no, then!" He went to begin eating, but a rap at the door downstairs stopped him. "Well now, who could that be?" He looked at me with a sly grin. "Oh, doesn't matter! They don't need any fish that badly!" He returned to his plate, but was once again interrupted by a knocking, this time louder. However, this time It was followed by a deep voice. A voice I recognized, and knew all too well. My stomach began to turn, and not out of hunger.

"Come on out, Blake. We need to talk."

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_**Author's Note: Oooooh, a cliff hanger. Fancy! I've said it once and I'll say it again, please give me some feedback on what you think in the reviews, it helps a lot with knowing how I'm doing, and if I've missed any errors in my writing. Until next time, everyone!**_


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